the most wonderful time of the year
by fairy-prose
Summary: Sometimes, she catches him looking at her, out of the corner of her eye, and thinks 'maybe.' (The Doctor and Rose, a few days after The Christmas Invasion).


It's been four days since Christmas, and they still haven't left.

Mum is still harping on the fact that it's been ages since Rose was home for a proper visit, and it's a familiar combination of guilt and genuine affection for her mother that has Rose acquiescing to her request to stay just a little longer.

To her immense surprise, the Doctor doesn't seem to mind in the slightest. "Not a problem!" he chirps, over breakfast on Boxing Day. "The TARDIS is a bit banged up, on account of our bumpy landing the other day. She could use some TLC before we take her back out again."

But months and months of traveling with the Doctor have made Rose forget just how _boring_ living life like this - day after day, one foot in front of the other - can be. She doesn't have a job to fill up the hours, and she's drifted apart from most of her old mates, between the year she was gone and all the linear time that's passed in London since. Really, all that's left to do is either spend time with her mum - which is lovely, but has its limits - or watch the Doctor work on the TARDIS.

And that's…well. That has its limits, too.

She's always liked watching the Doctor work on the TARDIS. Back before all this same-man-new-body madness, she'd loved watching him strip off the leather jacket and roll up the sleeves of his jumper before he got to work, and then she'd sit there on the jump seat and they'd chat while he worked, his voice drifting up through the grating and into the cavernous space of the console room.

But this new body is so _distracting_.

Not that the old one wasn't, because it was, it _absolutely _was, and Rose would be lying if she said she'd liked watching the Doctor work just for the conversation. But now he's all long gangly limbs and ridiculous hair and _flirting_, and it's all Rose can do to stop herself from tackling him to the grating and snogging the life out of him.

Sometimes, she catches him looking at her, out of the corner of her eye, and thinks _maybe_-

But she doesn't have the courage to act on it - not just now, anyways - and it's just getting frustrating, all of the looking and joking and smiling and not touching. So, on the fourth day of all this, when Mickey asks if she wants to go down the shops, Rose shrugs and says _sure, why not_.

They're walking from shop to shop, and Mickey is asking her a question, something pointless about football that she couldn't care less about, when she catches a glimpse of _him_ out of the corner of her eye - standing there, cool as you please, smirking at her.

There's something in his eyes that sends a hot shiver of anticipation prickling down her spine.

Then the Doctor quirks an eyebrow at her and spins on his heel, disappearing into an alley off the main street.

Rose bats at Mickey's arm and he looks up, a bit startled. "I'll be just a minute - there's something I want to check out back, um, that way." Mickey just nods and goes back to his shopping, and she takes off in the direction of the corner the Doctor had gone around.

She nearly runs into him, coming around the corner. He hasn't really gone into the alley proper at all - he's just folded that long, lanky body around the edge of the building and leaned up against the wall, hands tucked nonchalantly into the pockets of his coat. He quirks his eyebrow at her again when she jumps at the sight of him standing there, and Rose is pretty sure he's suppressing a laugh, too.

"Did I surprise you?" he asks cheekily.

Rose gives him a halfhearted glare. "What are you doing here?" She gives the alley a once-over, more out of habit than anything else, but doesn't spot any evil robot Santas or living shop dummies or hostile aliens. "Is there something wrong?"

The Doctor smiles and shakes his head_. "_Nothing wrong, no. Finished up my repairs and just thought I'd see what you were up to, out here with Mr. Mickey."

Rose narrows her eyes at him, not quite believing the explanation. "You just thought you'd see what I was up to? Just because?"

The Doctor looks a bit sheepish all of a sudden, his previously suave expression shifting into something a little more boyish and unsure as he refuses to meet her eyes. "Well-" he pauses, and scuffs the toe of one of his trainers in a small pile of melting snow before quietly admitting, "…yeah."

_Then _he looks up to meet her eyes, and it's there without question, that thing Rose thinks she's caught a glimpse of a few times over the last few days - well, over the last few _months_, if she's really going to be honest with herself. It looks different in these brown eyes, though, the heat of the expression magnified by their already warm color.

The Doctor's voice is throaty and wanting when he says, "Is that so odd?"

Rose feels a surge of courage. She's got no idea where it comes from, but it's more than enough to propel her to close the distance between the two of them. She insinuates herself into his personal space, such as it is - the Doctor has never really seemed to buy into that concept - and looks up into his eyes as she says "No, I suppose not."

At first, it looks like he's waffling somewhere between desperate want and utter panic, eyes darting from her lips to her chest and back up to her face again as if they can't decide where to look. For a few moments, the fog of their breath in the air is the only thing that passes between them.

Then he surges forward and kisses her.

Rose does what she's been wanting to do for days (_ages_) now and buries her fingers in his ridiculous hair, scrapes her nails against his scalp. The Doctor makes a groaning, appreciative noise into her mouth, and Rose can't help smiling into the kiss.

It's only a few more moments before he settles his hands quite firmly on her waist and spins them around, pressing her up against the wall he'd just been leaning against. She catches just a glimpse of him grinning like an idiot, face dimly illuminated by fairy lights and street lamps, before his mouth is on hers again. One of his hands reaches up to curl around her neck, while the other goes to find bare skin where her jacket and jumper have ridden up at her waist. Rose feels enormously grateful for the support of the brick wall behind her, cold as it is, because she's not entirely certain that her legs can be trusted to support her just now.

She breaks the kiss, eventually, because while he might not need to breathe she certainly does. The Doctor looks flushed and giddy, smiling at her like a madman, and Rose is pretty sure that she looks about the same.

"It's cold out here," she says mildly, and the Doctor's brows furrow together in confusion before she continues. "That might be a bit of an obstacle in a few minutes."

He brightens, and instantly the giddy smile melts into something altogether more dark. "Well, as it so happens, I happen to know of a very fine time-and-space machine nearby that has a really _excellent _heating system." He gives her an absolutely filthy wink. "I should know. Tuned it up myself, just this afternoon."

Rose runs a finger down the length of his tie and then over the last few buttons of his suit jacket, stopping just short of the waistband of his trousers, and the Doctor's eyes follow it with rapt fascination. "Well then," she says, then smiles at him with her tongue between her teeth. "Lead the way."


End file.
